


Thaumatrope

by Bad_Wolf



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Howl's Moving Castle AU, I LOVE THESE CHILDREN, Slow Burn, drama and adventure, saccharine relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9810002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Wolf/pseuds/Bad_Wolf
Summary: Marco Diaz wants a quiet life where he can learn about his family's business, he dreams of one day having his own bed.Star Butterfly dreams of taking back her birthright and of destroying her enemies, she just needs help.Howl's Moving Castle AU.Star: "Prepare For Trouble!"Marco: "And Make it Double!"





	1. A Sensible Future/A Catastrophic Past

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish Translations: 
> 
> 1: Don't lock yourself up all alone
> 
> 2: A variation of mother,
> 
> 3: I'm sorry
> 
> 4: rolled tacos that are fried and served with heavy cream, lettuce, diced tomatoes, and salsa on top.
> 
> 5:What's happened?
> 
> 6:Enough! Stop! Let's go eat or I'll spank you both!
> 
> 7: Means godmother or auntie. In this case used to refer to a grandmother-auntie. Nina Sofia is sister to Marco's grandmother.
> 
> 8: idiot.
> 
> 9: birthmark, only used to refer to wine stains or discoloration on the skin
> 
> 10: forgive me
> 
> 11: a funny and inoffensive word for butt.
> 
> 12: [Straw Cowboy Hat](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71FkIKpctGL._UX679_.jpg)
> 
> 13: a style of taco where the meat is roughly chopped over a rough wooden board slathered in fat. Literal translation is splinter tacos.
> 
> 14: sugar-rolled tamarind candies. slightly spicy

It’s impossible to know when the sunlight started to fade, when Marco had to start hunching closer and closer to the needle so he could see. And he didn’t even notice his mother, Angelica, come into his workshop, he was that absorbed in his work that flinched in the flare of bright lamp light. He quickly straightened.

“Mamá, sorry. What time is it?” He carefully curled upwards, feeling his spine crackle.

“It’s late, Marco. Why don’t you head on downstairs for dinner? Tomorrow’s the preparation for the celebration and you don’t want to be tired do you?” His mother’s soft face was illuminated by the single fusion lamp she held, hooking it into the magnetic tile above Marco’s head.

“But...”

“No buts. Your father and I already sent everyone else downstairs, hoping you’d stop working. But here you are.” She kissed his forehead, “Come on out Marco, no te encierres1.”

“Okay, okay, Amá2,” said Marco, hastily dodging his mother’s playful swat.

“I told you not to call me that,” she chases her son out of the door, laughing.

“ _Am_ a, you can’t swat at me anymore, I’m fourteen! And in eleven months, sixteen days I’ll be-Uuf!” Marco laughs as his mother catches him, he’s already taller than her by at least a couple of inches.

“I know, I know. But let me spoil you until then.” They hug tightly, Marco tucking his mother under his chin and arm.

“Hitting me isn’t spoiling me,” mumbles Marco and his mother swats his butt, making Marco laugh.

“Okay, okay, lo siento3. I guess I _am_ tired. Let me just put the stuff away and I’ll see you for dinner?”

“Mhm, your dad made flautas4 so hurry before we eat them all!”

Marco rushed back into his work room, the sounds of his family downstairs and the smell of good food being served makes him hurry. Needles into their cushion, bolts of cloth into their cubbies, ribbons into their proper drawers. Marco’s gaze flits up, looking out of his window. It’s a good view all things considered, a few hundred yards of town before the half-wall delineating city and country appears and then miles of rolling hills until-

“It’s her!”

Marco doesn’t mean to shriek, but he does and once he starts, he can’t stop. He punches the intercom for the kitchen. “It’s Moon’s castle! Come up here! Come up!”

But only his mother and youngest cousin make it in time.

“Que paso?!5 “ His mother crashes into his back, Marco’s thrown the window open and is half hanging out.

“It’s Moon’s Moving Castle!!” Marco strains to see the turrets and sparkling glitter cannons, but his cousin Sylvia shoves him out of the way.

“It’s true! I see it! I see it!” She turns to Marco and helps him back up. They jump up and down, shrieking while Marco’s mother shakes her head in amusement. Marco’s head swims with visions of brave battles of Queen Moon Butterfly, her daring Goat steed, and the way the whole family was hunted down because of the ban on magic. They hooted and hollered until Angelica, Marco’s mother, quieted them.

“Ya! Basta! Vamos a comer, si no me los voy a sonar a los dos6 !” Marco’s mother squints at them and touches her waist, as if she wore a belt.

Shrieking and holding their backsides in mock terror, Marco and Sylvia run down all three flights of stairs and slam themselves into the dining room table.

“What were you three screaming about?” Marco’s father, Rafael, is a handsome and solid man, “Did someone get run over by the train?” Marco gives his father a warm smile before accepting a plate of food and passing it to Sylvia.

“Ew, Tio!” protested Sylvia, “Don’t be morbid! Marco and I saw _Queen Moon’s Moving Castle!”_

The rest of the table goes into an uproar, several of the family starting loud arguments until Marco’s father manages to calm everyone down.

“Now Sylvia, let’s not talk about that right now,” Marco’s mother reappears, “Everyone calm down. We have nothing to worry about. The castle might not even be Moon’s, it might belong to another wizard or witch.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Nina7 Sofia, a wizened and scrappy hunch-backed relic from when lamp light still meant open flames, piped up and would not be hushed by either Marco’s mother or father, “Since the castle is so close, maybe the witch or wizard from that castle is on the prowl.”

A deathly and frightened silence fell over the table.

“Best not think too hard about it, my doves, “ said Nina Sofia gently, “Just be careful of whom you meet out there. Could be a goodie or a baddie.”

“How can you tell though?” asked Marco, stuffing his face with crispy flauta drenched in heavy cream and salsa. That seems to break the spell and everyone began to eat, albeit quietly.

“In my experience it’s the sparkle of their eye,” replied Nina Sofia, smiling wistfully, “You can tell right away if they’re there to harm or help.”

“Tia...” Marco’s father’s voice is low and gruff, but his eyes are gentle, “Don’t scare the children and don’t give them ideas.”

Nina Sofia shrugs. “I’m just giving them advice.” She winked at Marco.

“Ah. But there’s the rub,” said Tia Luz, Sylvia’s mother, “Once you’re close enough to see their eyes like that it’s too late either way. No amount of advice will help.”

“Waaaait a minute,” Marco waves his last flauta in the air, “You said in _your_ experience. What was your experience?” He’s intensely curious and it nearly rips him in two when Nina Sofia blushes lightly despite her advanced age and pulls at the cuff of her sleeves. The uproar from the adults at the table is deafening and dinner is cut short, no one gets dessert and Marco doesn’t get a second plate of delicious, delicious flautas.

..

“Nice going, Marco. Baboso8.” Jorge, an older cousin, cuffs Marco’s head and Marco winces. Everyone under the age of nineteen has been sent to bed, and they all traipse upstairs sadly and a little pissed off at Marco. The eldest, Uva, is standing at the top of the stairs, counting heads.

“Fifteen...Sixteen...?” Uva frowns as Marco and Sylvia stomp past her, “Ah!” She points to herself, “Seventeen!” Happily, she herds her younger cousins and siblings down the hallway to their respective rooms and engages the window screens that prevents nightly escapades and burglary, and comforts the younger ones. If no one can get out, then no monsters can get in, say the adults when the older cousins grumble about freedom in front of the little ones. The adults would then smirk at their ploy, knowing that the older children would always want to protect the younger ones, even from imaginary monsters.

Although he shares a room with several cousins, Marco is too exhausted to join in any after dinner games and drops off into bed, falling asleep to the sound of a novella and the quiet clack of domino tiles.

...

The alarm on his phone chirps quietly at him and Marco is instantly awake, he crawls out from the sheets, careful not to wake anyone and creeps around collecting clothes and a towel so he can shower. When his family had first moved into the Diaz-Bojorquez villa, Marco used to stitch a small M.D.X to his clothes, but that caused more fights and arguments than it prevented, so his parents forbade it and told Marco that he would simply have to learn to share.

Marco snagged a dark green shirt, loose jeans, some clean socks and _his_ hoodie that he laid sole claim to by rubbing his bare butt on it several months ago in front of his cousins. Although no one touched it anymore, his aunts and uncles were furious at the new bare-butt-rubbing trend Marco had started and immediately set down harsh punishments for anyone rubbing their bare butt to claim anything in the villa. But there were still couches and cupboards Marco refused to touch. Still.... no one even dared touch his hoodie now so it was good, and his antics had made Nina Sofia laugh until her ceramic teeth popped out.

Uva and a few of the older ones were already in the shower and Marco, still unused to nudity, even knowing his cousins didn’t care, kept his eyes up up up and waited for a private shower stall.

“You’re going to have to get over it some day, you know.” His cousin Oscar, eighteen and chubby, teased Marco, “Come on Marco, we’ve all seen that weird lunar9 on your ass already, what more do you have to hide?”

“My dignity,” replied Marco haughtily, clutching his towel and clothes closer to his chest. Oscar chuckled and patted his shoulder.

..

He raced down the stairs, his stomach cramping in on itself with hunger when he almost ran into Nina Sofia.

“Perdoname10, Nina!” gasped Marco, “Want help?”

“Always,” said his Nina, gratefully taking Marco’s arm.

“I don’t know why you don’t just take the elevator.”

“The same reason you don’t take the elevator,” replied his Nina cheerfully.

“It’s... faster?” Marco seriously doubts his Nina’s old spindly legs and hunchback made the trip to the kitchen faster.

Nina Sofia chuckled warmly, “Oh no. I meant that I can’t stand that elevator’s smells. It smells like old people farts.”

Marco cracked up, gently squeezing his Nina’s arm. “You’re so funny Nina. I wish I was as funny as you.”

“Mm!” his Nina stared at him in disbelief, “Rubbing your pompis11 to mark territory is pretty funny to _me!”_ She giggled, sounding young and old all at once.

“My cousins forced my hand,” said Marco with as much dignity as possible, “I had to save my jacket.” He tugged at the sleeves for emphasis.

“Ah,” said his Nina Sofia, “I had to do that once, except with my lips. And it was terribly romantic, ended a war you know!”

Marco smothered the fit of giggles that wanted to push past his throat. “Really, Nina!”

“Tia!”

Both Nina Sofia and Marco wince at Rafael’s stern voice.

“Tia, _how_ many times must I tell you to not fill Marco’s head with silly stories? Dangerous silly stories!”

“At least once more,” retorted Nina Sofia, “Come here, nephew and give me a kiss!” Marco’s father obediently kissed his aunt’s cheek and smiled at her.

“You’ve had your adventures tia, it’s time to let the young ones carve their own way. Yes?”

Nina Sofia looks put out, “That sounds reasonable.”

“Marco?”

“Papa, you know I’m careful,” Marco puffed himself up.

“He’s Mr. Cautious alright!” Uva, the eldest cousin, but still straddling that thin line between childhood and true adult appeared at Marco’s side. “Don’t worry about Marco, Tio. He’s responsible and careful, right Marco?” She slung an arm around him, “You couldn’t catch Marco _dead_ within a hundred yards of a moving castle or a crime.”

“Right!” agreed Marco, glad at least that Uva was proud of his cautiousness. Marco’s father grins but Nina Sofia rolls her eyes.

“How are you going to fall in love if you don’t err on the side of adventure?” Nina Sofia demanded, rapping at Marco’s shins with her thick cane carved with a crow’s head.

“My true love would never put me in danger,” replied Marco easily, “I’m going to fall in love with someone _sensible_.” (Years later Marco thinks on that last peaceful day ruefully, hoping that his Nina Sofia knows that he’s fallen in love with pretty much the _least_ sensible person in existence.)

“Ahh!” She throws her hands up and walks away, grumbling about this new generation.

“Heyy~, Marcooo.” Uva pulls him into a tighter hug, “Can I ask my beautiful, cutie pie cousin for a huge, huge favor? I can _only_ trust you with this favor because I know that out of anyone-“

“What do you want?” Although Marco is flattered, he knows a weasel when he hears one, and Uva’s glittering eyes and tight hug all scream at him to run away. But he doesn’t, because he hopes Uva will see he really _is_ responsible and be allowed to have a small cup of wine at dinner. _That_ would be crazy cool, thinks Marco with pleasure.

Uva presses a thick paper list and money chip into Marco’s hands, “Can you go and order these things for me?”

Marco glances at the list and pales, “I... I..”

“Oh! No no no no!” said Uva, trying to reassure Marco. “You don’t have to pick up the orders, just give the orders and I’ll get the others to pick them up later today. Pleeease~?”

“Psh,” Marco pats her shoulder, “I’ll get these orders submitted in no time.”

“Thanks!” Uva’s so obviously relieved that Marco feels brave enough to poke her ribs and run away before she can retaliate.

He runs into the kitchen and stuffs scrambled egg into his mouth directly from the steaming central bowl, much to the displeasure of his family and then kisses his mother on the cheek, “I’m running errands for Uva today.”

“That’s fine,” his mother clasps his head as they kiss, tugging on his earlobe, “Stay safe Marco. Do you have extra money, Marco? Here.” His mother pulls out a few bills and presses them into Marco’s hands.

“Brush your teeth before you go!” yells his mother, but Marco would never dare step a toe out of his house without a squeaky clean mouth or face. He jostles past his cousins on the stairs, leaps over the night owls in his bedroom and digs into his backpack for his toothbrush. It’s like an obstacle course except it’s his life.

...

As soon as Marco hits the streets, his somewhat plain cowboy hat12 pressed firmly over his head, Marco realizes why Uva didn’t want to go place the orders, the streets are packed. Even though the celebrations for war aren’t until tomorrow, the city is packed with visiting tourists, soldiers, fancy men and ladies come out of their exclusive homes to rub elbows with the commoners in order to get a good look at the High King’s army as it passed through their small city.

Marco almost turns around and flees back inside his family’s villa estate. Almost. He stuffs the list and the money chip deep into his hoodie pockets, tightens the hat’s string under his chin and allows himself to be swept out with the crowds hurrying every which way.

It’s easy once Marco gets the rhythm of the streets, his home is much more chaotic than this. It’s good he’s not wearing anything fancy except his belt buckle because he’s constantly stepped on and pushed into, his hat’s edges getting squished in the process. But straw can be remolded so Marco doesn’t worry.

First stop: bakery. Marco is mortified he has to yell his order, it’s not polite, but there’s no way to make himself heard and there’s no room to maneuver his elbows onto the counter. So yell he does. “Two large roscas, one hundred pan birotes, one hundred conchas, and two hundred ojos de guey!” Marco’s request is written down: two enormous wreaths of braided bread with a tiny figurine baked in (chosen flavors are one cinnamon and one candied goat-milk), one hundred soft breads that are perfect for sopping up soup or beans, one hundred clam-shaped sweet breads of three different flavors, and two hundred gooey strawberry confections breaded with candied coconut. Marco’s mouth his watering as he places the order and neatly signs off on the slip of paper the baker gives him. Marco receives a free concha for placing such a large order, with deposit and everything.

Marco steps into the bakery’s patio, admiring the murals as he eats the sweet bread, he got chocolate. Not his favorite, but it was warm and freshly made and fills the eternal void that is his stomach. Yum.

Next stop: butcher. Fifteen chickens, twenty pounds of menudo (Marco’s stomach twists hopefully at the thought), fifty pounds of arrachera (his stomach is angrily cramping now at the thought of fragrant meat), and fifty pounds of barbacoa already salted and seasoned. Marco signs the slip of paper and hands over the exact amount of money for the deposit. He receives two fat tacos de astilla13 and the butcher points to a buffet table laid out with vegetables. Marco goes a little over board and has trouble fitting the taco in his mouth over the mountain of caramelized onions, cheese, beans, cilantro, salsa, thin slices of both cucumbers and radishes. But somehow he manages.

Third stop: Candy store. Marco almost starts crying at the stacks and stacks of candy and numbly requests the order he has written down. After paying the deposit, he receives a candied apple coated in a thick layer of spicy tamarind candy and stuffed with mango and strawberry compote inside. Marco thinks this is the best day of his life.

Marco’s in such a daze that he doesn’t realize he’s off the beaten path until he drops a dollop of compote onto the ground and it lands with a wet squelch next to a rat’s corpse. Marco recoils and backs into the nearest wall. He’s in an alleyway, Marco quickly turned in a tight circle. Relax, relax. What would Mackie Hand do? Mackie Hand wouldn’t be intimidated, Mackie Hand would punch the nearest building wall and make a tunnel for himself.

On impulse, Marco punches the rough brick wall, managing only to scrape his knuckles, “Great... Now I’m going to get tetanus and have my limb amputated and I’ll never able to scoop two handfuls of rielitos14 in my mouth ever again!” Marco sank back against the building, sniffling.

“I thought I heard someone out here.” A guard popped his head out from behind a passageway and a second guard slid out, frowning.

“Just a kid. Hey are you alright? You look lost. Do you need-“

“DEADLY NARWHALE BLAST!” A barrage of screeching and sparkling whales shot out at the guards, slamming them into the walls of the alleyway, Marco ducked, dropping his apple.

“Hey there! Are you okay!” A girl with dancing blue eyes and yellow hair stood before him. She held out her hand and helped Marco up, “They were about to kill you.” She whispered into Marco’s face, “You’re welcome.” Her smile was impossibly wide and bracketed by two splotchy-looking birthmarks.

Marco looked behind the girl, swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly felt tacky and disgusting, he wished for some water. He turned back to the girl who was ogling him, “I’m so glad I found you. You don’t know how dangerous they are!” She pointed a funny-looking toy at the guards, “They would have eaten your _eyeballs!_ ” She hissed, her eyes still smiling even though her mouth was turned into a snarl.

Marco dusted himself off and looked sadly at his half-eaten apple. “Uhm, I don’t think so. They’re royal guards and were trying to help me.”

The smile slipped off the girl for a moment before being replaced with a grin, “Oh dear! I think you’re confused. Come along.” Her tone of voice changed to motherly as she took Marco’s hand, “I know where you’ll be safe.”

“Hi-yah!” Marco jerked his hand left and then right, breaking the girl’s grip on him, he backed away slowly, “I know what you are! You’re a wizard! Uhm, witch!”

“I’m a princess!” corrected the girl. Marco looked at her ripped tights and dirty dress.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He continued to back away until he pressed up against something soft and wet. Marco recoiled from it and shrieked at the hulking oily mess he’d walked into.

“Diiiid I mention I was being hunted down~~?” The girl chirped, suddenly sounding nervous, “In case I haven’t: RUN! SPAGHETTI TSUNAMI!” Marco reacted, throwing himself at the girl’s feet as she lifted her funny toy and sent a gushing wave of glittering spaghetti at the blob. She scooped Marco into her arms and dashed away, holding onto Marco tightly. “I guess you’re involved now,” said the girl happily, “Oh well!”

“Involved with what?!” Marco clung to the girl.

“We’re....fugitives now.” the girl’s voice pitched low, as if being fugitives was glamorous. “Breakers of the law! Robins of the hood! Partners.....in criiime!” Her eyes glittered even more.

“Crime?!” yelped Marco, he strained against her tight hold, “I’m not a criminal! I love rules! I love order!”

“Tsk,” said the girl, “That’s really weird for someone who’s currently aiding and abetting a known and wanted fugitive!” She held Marco tighter, “Don’t you think we’d make a great team of criminals? What are your limits? Personally I’m okay with murder, but only if-”

“Help!” screeched Marco, “Help! I’m being kidnapped! Heeeelp!”

 


	2. On the Road to....?

They’re in the air before Marco knows which way his stomach is deciding to send his lunch. He claps a hand over his face as the girl lets go of his hands and loops a hand through his arm.

“Don’t puke,” the girl’s warning and her voice cut through Marco’s panic. “After all, you’d just get chunks on everyone below. Poor them! Now walk!” She’s erratic and imperious and so, so energetic. All Marco can do is follow her instructions and skip in tandem with the princess over the city.

“Isn’t it incredible?” Her shout is loud in Marco’s ears. They’re _walking_ over the city as if it were a lazy Sunday afternoon and not on the brink of war and madness for two countries.

Marco, suddenly feeling furious and scared, turns his head and screams, “LET ME DOWN!”

The girl winces, her face burning in embarrassment. “Where were you going? I can take you there.” Her words are almost whipped away by the wind, but Marco is pretty good at reading lips.

“Anywhere, uh... the school.” Marco isn’t sure whether she hears him or if she can read lips too, but they change directions and before he can count up to three minutes. His feet are scraping the worn roof tiles of the his school, closed for the long weekend. He drops to his heels, breathless from the flight. The girl, princess, crouches next to him, says, “Stay hidden. I’m going to lead those gross goo monsters away from you. Then go straight home, okay?” She points her toy at him threateningly, which would be funny if her tights weren’t ripped and her dress didn’t look so washed out.

“W-wait. What’s your name?”

“Star.”

“Star what? I’m Marco Diaz-Bojorquez, by the way, it’s uhh...nice to meet you.” Marco shakes Star’s hand, trying to be polite and proper about this entire situation.

“Just Star.”

And Marco can hear her stomach rumble. “Are you hungry?”

“No! Does it look like I’m hungry?!” Star stomps on the roof tiles, sending a couple flying over the ledge. “Look. I have to go, I don’t want those goo monsters getting to you. Sorry I messed up your day.” And she’s gone, jumped over the edge of the building with a twirl and a puff of smoke.

“Shoot.” Marco realized that he said something wrong to Star, but he isn’t sure what. Today was an unmitigated disaster, all of which was that girl’s fault, but Marco still feels guilty. He manages to toe onto the balcony of the floor below. It’s weird to be in the school building while it’s empty, his boots echo loudly. He sidles up to the front doors but doesn’t see anyone outside, but he still sprints for home.

..

He wanted his mother, he wanted his father, or maybe his aunt Luz or Uncle Mario, or any adult really. Instead, Marco ran smack dab into Nina Sofia. He caught her and apologized so much that Nina Sofia clapped a hand over Marco’s mouth.

“What’s wrong, mi vida?”

Marco started trembling, “I-...”

“It was _you!_ You were with the witch!” Nina Sofia hisses and Marco rips out of her grip, flying upstairs to the quiet of his workroom. He doesn’t stop at his cousins call, doesn’t stop at his father’s shout, Marco is shaking and feeling nauseous. He can’t get Star’s dirty clothes out of his head, he can’t forget the hungry look in her eyes or the way she shouted happily as they walked on air. Marco buries himself in work, ignoring the knocks on his door from various family members. He paces his workroom when it gets too dark to work, unwilling to flick on the lights. He ignores the time and ignores the faint guilt of knowing that he should be working with the others downstairs, but he can’t muster up the energy to deal with anything other than his thoughts right now.

Marco drags his hands down his face, trying to keep calm, he looks out of the window, wondering what he should do when a shadow flits between the buildings of his family’s home. He leaned on his desk and saw a weird silhouette move again, crouching in the shadows. Marco watches the silhouette round his home and disappear out of his line of sight. Without even thinking about the danger or how foolish it was, Marco cracks his window open and leans out, it’s too dark however, to see much of anything. So Marco does the only sensible thing and climbs out of his window to investigate.

He lands with a stealthy crash that knocks down several trash cans, Marco groans and rubs his back. “Mackie Hand wouldn’t’ve made so much noise,” he mutters to himself.

“Hahaha! Oh my _Gawd_!” A breathy voice broke the quiet of the night. “Haha-haha! That was fan _tastic_!” Marco struggled upright in the dim light trying to figure out who was laughing at him for jumping four stories down.

“S-Stop in the uh... name of the... law?” Marco trailed off as the breathy and shrill voice pealed with laughter, derision sharp and cutting. Marco found himself blushing as he threw off tomato and pepper peels from his face and hair.

“Standing up to the Princess of the Waste! Now that’s a new category of dumb and stupid I never knew could exist!”

Marco feels his eyes open impossibly wide, wider than they should be able to when he sees the flying pony head extract itself from the shadows. Marco scrambles back, but yelps when he sees two of those goo monsters guarding the exit.

“What did Star want with you?”

“I... _what?_ ”

“What. Did. Star Butterfly. Want. With.-“

“Nothing!” squeaked Marco, “She beat up some royal guards and then _kidnapped_ me! She just-“ Marco mimed himself being carried up and away.

But the Princess of the Wastes doesn’t budge, she sneers at him. “A likely story. You liar!”

“I’m not lying! I would _never_!” Marco stands, his legs unbroken and nothing sprained, thankfully.

“Bah! I _know_ you’re lying! And you’ll pay for trying to hurt her!” The Princess of the Wastes looms high above Marco, and before he can react, the she dives at him.

She slices through him with her horn.

Marco falls back, smacking hard onto the pavement, and at first Marco feels nothing, just the sting from the fall.

“Hm..” the Princess snorts quietly, “You’ve certainly got a knack for it, you know.”

“Huh?” and Marco faints.

When he wakes up, there’s a weird pressure around his whole head, is he bleeding? Is he decapitated?

But no, his neck is still joined to his shoulders and his jaw. Instead of skin, his fingers meet hard paper mache over his face, Marco breathes in relief. He cautiously sits up and feels the weight of a hat over him, he touches it and finds it’s a broad-brimmed velvet cowboy hat, the kind his father would wear to the most formal of occasions, there’s a metal band around the base. Weeeeeird. Marco thinks of the Princess of the Wastes’ comments and scrambles back inside, only luck saving him from running into anyone. He finds an empty bathroom, God bless, and locks himself inside.

He flicks the light on and claps a hand to his face, to his head! He tears off the velvet cowboy and carefully places it aside before trying to rip off the paper mache mask.

It doesn’t budge.

 _Ohhh Ohohoho no! No! No no no!!_ Marco feels for the edges of the mask, it curls under his ears over his forehead down his cheeks to curl under his jaw. He can’t even fully open his jaw!! Marco tries, slamming his jaw open, but that just makes his face hurt as the paper mache cuts into his skin. Only his mouth is free from this paper mache nightmare. It’s not even a cute mask or anything, it’s all square with rigid lines that press uncomfortably over the soft contours of his face, the eyes are simple rectangles and the nose is just a triangle sticking out like an ugly zit. And it’s all Marco can do to not have a fit in that bathroom over the ugly mask stuck to his face. He goes to bed hoping that by the morning, the spell will have worn off.

....

It hadn’t worn off. If anything, the mask seems to press closer to his cheek bones and forehead, almost like a rough and ugly second skin. Marco looks at himself in the mirror, lips curling in distaste at the ugly oatmeal-colored mask, maybe he could paint it? Maybe no one will notice? No one would be dumb enough to believe that, he would have to tell them the truth...

Marco freezes, remembering the Princess of the Waste and her disgusting goo monsters. They could come after him again, or his family. He looks at his ugly reflection, _I’m not going to let anyone hurt my family. And the mask is easy enough to explain. For medical reasons I must wear this mask or...risk becoming sick._ It was partially true, when Marco tugged on the mask his face felt like it was on fire, like it was being torn in two, medically it was unsafe. _But what should I do?_ _Oh! The High King has advisors and witches! They can help me!_ Excited, Marco places his hand on the door, _but if I leave, everyone’ll want to know where and why I’m going._

He decides to sneak out.

It’s disturbingly easy. Usually the house is bustling with people running underfoot and screaming and yelling, but now it’s almost deserted, Marco takes the elevator upstairs to his room and considers what to pack.

Underwear, socks, his favorite hoodie, clothes, a map, some stationary, some gauze and bandages just in case, his karate uniform, several Mackie Hand DVDs, and some towels. The backpack was heavy, but Marco managed to pull it up over his shoulders.

...

Marco slid out from a side door and jogged away from his home. He turned to look back one last time, the bright noon sun and the crowds didn’t let Marco enjoy that last view. It would be a long time before he saw that sweet sight again.

But that wasn’t currently on Marco’s mind, he had to struggle through the crowds and forgot all about even pausing at the edge of the river that bracketed his city. A truck rumbling out of the city gave Marco a ride out past all of the farmsteads and cattle ranches until there was only the precipitous rise of the wasteland mountains before him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner sweetie? The driver of the truck offered him dinner again and Marco did not refuse.

“So what’s going on with the mask, dear?” The woman had soft green eyes and a comfortable paunch.

“A scar,” Marco’s voice remained calm despite the lie and the woman's kindly but probing gaze. He touched his face hesitantly, feeling guilty.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, sweetie. Scars are nothing to be ashamed of. Now, you don’t have to talk about it. Here, just eat some more. It sounds like you have a long way to go. Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?”

“I’m sure,” said Marco firmly, thank you very much, “I’ll wash the dishes though.”

By the time Marco leaves it’s almost dark out and he struggles with his backpack. It would be easier if he had some way to lighten the load without leaving his stuff.

“My face is so cold even though I’m wearing this stupid mask,” mumbled Marco, touching the rough material. He looked back, “I’m not even that faraway from town! Uuugh, why do I walk so slow??” He dropped his backpack and decided to do some deep breathing exercises, he wasn’t going to give up yet, but hiking up a mountain required being limber.

He saw something glimmering out of the corner of his gaze; hesitantly, Marco approached it and saw a wooden cart with four functional wheels partially buried in the loose dirt.

“Perfect! I can pull my back pack through the roads!” Marco curled his hands around the base and yanked. It didn’t budge. He found a stick and started digging into the ground, “Huh?” There was a fish tail fused to the base of the cart. Weird. Marco continued to dig and realized that he found some sort of avante garde art piece. Marco dug it out and heaved it out of the ground, managing to stand the sculpture upright.

“Huh, well this is weird.” Unfortunately the cast bronze cart was nothing more than a glorified skateboard with a large salmon-like bronze fish fused into it, tail and fins set at a jaunt angle. What was funny was the helmet buckled over the fish’s head.

Marco yelped when the sculpture’s wheels spun and it twirled, hopping and lunging into the air. “Heh, you’re welcome? What are you, some sort of sentient R/C toy? Am I being joked on?” Marco looked around the scrubland, but there wasn’t anyone besides him, his backpack, and this crazed fish on wheels.

“Well, I’ll see you later I guess, Miss Fish.” Marco turned away, but the fish followed him. “Uhh, thanks but you can go now. Seriously, you can stop following me, you don’t have a debt to me or anything.” Marco marveled at how calm he sounded talking to what was probably a weird demon created from the unholy amalgamation of magic and technology

But the fish on wheels bounced along happily, making a racket along the unpaved wasteland road. Marco shivered as the sun set behind him. He gave the fish a baleful glance, “You know... if you want to follow me, you might as well be useful or something. Isn’t there someone around here who can help me? Preferably not the Princess of the Wastes, I already ran into her and it was _not_ a good day.” The fish does a slow spin and then with wheels squealing and kicking up dirt, launches itself away back towards town.

Marco chuckles, he’d never felt more at ease talking to a complete stranger, _lying_ to a complete stranger, not just a stranger, but a weird magic-tech thing that could probably kill him. He touched the mask, feeling a weird buzz through the material, he quickly yanked his hand back down and continued walking. If he was going to get the damned thing off he had to cross the wasteland mountains to get onto the main road that could reach the capital city. From there he would beg an audience with the king to get this damned curse lifted. Perfect plan. What could go wrong? (Years later, Marco would think sourly on that foolish thought, knowing that most everything would work itself out, in the end. At least _he_ got what he wanted for himself.)

...

It was full night when he heard the, by now familiar, thump of bronze on dirt. Miss Fish coasted over the hill in front of Marco and to his astonishment, did an ollie.

“You’re very talented for a sculpture, Miss Fish. How do you even _do_ that?” Marco huffed and puffed to reach Miss Fish. “It’s-“

They both screamed at the same time.

Marco dropped his backpack and struck a fighting stance, Star struck a perfectly terrible horse stance and pointed her toy wand at him.

“Who are you? Speak up!” Star hissed, her eyes narrowed.

“Me?!” Marco sputtered and his stance wavered as he realized that Star didn’t recognize him, that was good. If Star even thought he had followed her, she would probably kill him and eat his heart, like in the old stories. “I’m just trying to get to the capitol to- to!” Marco’s mouth clamped shut, his teeth biting into his gums. Marco clutched his face and dropped to his knees, writhing. Marco could _feel_ his teeth lengthen and bite into his gums and cheeks like thorns, making it impossible to speak.

Star stared at him impassively, “Miss Fish, does he do this often? Not since you’ve known him? Hm..”

Marco felt himself turned over.

Star tsked, “That’s a nasty curse, ain’t it? Probably can’t talk about it, right?”

Instantly, this teeth withdrew and Marco sucked in a deep breath, “I’m cold.”

Star laughed, “Come on, I have a fire going from a tree I accidentally ignited.” Marco got up and heaved his backpack over his shoulders. “You got food in there...what’s your name?”

“Uhm. I don’t- I don’t-“

“Weird!” Star’s eyes glittered, “Curiouser and more curiousest, there’s something about you I _just_ can’t place. It’s on the tip of my tongue!” And she stuck her tongue out as if to demonstrate, it was striped blue from some candy she’d been eating. “No worries! I’ll just call you Mask.” She lead the way, chattering, “You’re headed to the capital? Wish I could help you get there, but I’m really busy, you know.”

Despite his heart beating a painful, frightened rhythm, Marco was also curious about Star. “With what?”

Star hummed and shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you won’t get involved.”

“Too late,” muttered Marco.

“What was that?”

“Uh... just that it’s getting pretty late, let’s hurry so we don’t meet the Princess of the Wastes or something.”

Star actually _laughed_ , “Her?? Don’t worry about _her._ She’s the literal best!”

Marco flushed angrily, but his teeth sunk spiny tendrils into his gums and tongue so he kept busy trying not to cry instead of telling Star exactly what kind of opinion he held of the Princess of the Wastes.


	3. The Castle and its Keeper

Star lead Marco to a small, puny campfire sheltered by a dirt overhang.

“This....is underwhelming,” said Marco, looking at Star’s fire, “Do you even have a tent? Food? Sleeping bag? Hand sanitizer???”

Star sputtered, “And ruin the aesthetic I’m going for?” She actually looked mad, “How am I suppose to be _the_ Star Butterfly if I’m not always a bit hungry and romantically uncomfortable?”

Marco swallowed the first response on his lips, _you’re so sad_ , and instead went with, “That’s dumb, you’re dumb.” Marco clapped a hand over his exposed mouth, is the magic behind this mask going to make him an asshole? _Him? Marco-wears-five-thimbles-Diaz-Bojorquez? Not today!_ “S-sorry, I meant. I meant that how can you really let yourself be hungry? Can’t you just pretend to be hungry?” Marco digs into his bag and pulls out the dinner the nice farm lady gave him, he splits it in half and offers it to Star.

Star didn’t take the sandwich, just stared at him suspiciously, “What’s in your pocket?”

“Huh?”

“There’s something in your pocket, what is it?”

Marco put the sandwich away and reached into his pocket, pulling out two marbles, a thimble, a paperclip, gum, and a slip of dark gold foil paper.

Star reached for his hand, took the thimble and put it on her head, “Just as I suspected. You have both a tiny metal hat and a curse. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t narwhale blast you into oblivion, Mister Mask?”

“That’s not a hat, it’s-“

“But _that’s_ a curse!” hissed Star, startling Marco, he flinched and dropped everything. It all hit the ground except for the gold leaf, it floated and danced in the wind. Star leapt back, pulling out her silly toy wand and Marco scuttled back, making sure to get out of blast range.

“Th-that’s a curse?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Of course not!” snapped Marco, “I’m-“ His teeth cemented his jaw shut, throwing barbed tendrils into his gums. Tears poured down Marco’s face, hidden by the mask. _Stupid, stupid!_ Marco pawed at his jaw, whimpering. Star gazed at him curiously, but then the gold leaf curse exploded, crackling and impossibly bright.

“Tch!” Star relaxed, “It’s just a warning off. Something about wanting to hang out next time I’m in town.” Star relaxed immensely and flopped down next to the fire.

“ _What?_ ” Marco was furious.

“Forget it, Mask. Come on,” she says, patting the dirt next to her, “Weren’t you just offering me food?” Marco blinked for a few seconds, trying to catch up. He snatched the thimble from Star’s head and shoved it back into his pocket and pulled out a wet wipe from his backpack to clean his hands. He pulled out another wet wipe and handed it to Star who wrinkled her nose at Mask.

“Clean hands or no food,” said Marco, Mask, firmly.

“Ugh! F _iiiiine_ , you’re such a dad!” Star carelessly wiped her palms, her mouth and then tossed the wipe into the fire. “See? All clean.”

Marco broke the sandwich in two and handed one half to Star.

Marco sighed, happy with the silence as they ate.

“So, Mask. You obviously can’t talk ‘bout whatevs is going on with you. So, where are you headed?” Star’s chatter isn’t unwelcome, so much that Marco is very tired.

“To the capitol, I need to ask-“ Marco’s jaw ached and he closed his mouth before his stupid teeth could injure him even more, he’s been swallowing almost as much blood as sandwich. If he weren’t so hungry, he’d give the sandwich to Star. “For help.”

“Mm,” says Star intelligently, “Wait... you weren’t planning on getting there on foot, were you?”

“What?” suddenly Marco realizes he should’ve just tried to take the train to the capitol, how far was it to go back home? One day of walking? His family would be worried but he’d do his best to explain.

An explosion rocked their dirt overhang, Marco grabbed Star and pulled her to safety as the overhang collapsed. Star grabbed Marco’s bag and dragged it behind her. Marco looked up and saw a filthy, vaguely frog-like humanoid staring down at them, lips curled.

“Run, Mask.” whispered Star, “Run!” She leapt up and swung the toy wand, which was now shooting light figures at the humanoid.

Marco left his bag and picked Star up, swinging her over his shoulder, and ran. His breath came in hot, reflected back into his mouth by the paper mache mask. He dodged spears and rock outcroppings, easily staying on his feet as Star shot bolts of whale and spaghetti at their attackers.

“Who are they?” gasped Mask, almost tripping on an outcropping.

“They work for-“ Star squeaked as Marco finally tripped and they went flying. They rolled to a stop and lay in the dirt, breathing heavily.

Marco tugged on her elbow and Star followed him, into the dark shadow of a rock. “For the man who stole my castle.”

“Your parents castle?”

“ _My_ castle,” said Star, her voice wobbling a bit, “It’s my castle now.” The sound of their chasers got louder and they pressed themselves into the rock, Star grabbed his arms and Mask returned the clasp. Several times there were explosions around them, but none came closer than a few feet.

“Star...” cooed a rough and patchy voice, “Star.... do you even know who your friend is? He’s naughty, very, very naughty Star. Pony head does not like him at all,” the voice tsked, “Are you going to ignore the Princess of the Wastes’ warning?”

The night was not so dark that Star couldn’t look into Mask’s eyes. Star pulled away from Mask and palmed her toy wand.

“Come out, Star. And it’ll be just like old times,” the voice is like pebbles rubbing against one another.

Marco sees Star shift and grabs her, holding her down.

“Don’t you want to see _them_ , Star? Ludo says you do. Want to see them. Come home Star, and Ludo will make it quick for you.”

Star is trying to wrestle away from him, but Marco holds on. “He’s lying to you Star. Even if I’m not your friend. Even if you don’t know who I am. Even I can tell he’s lying.” whispered Marco, desperate, “If you walk into the trap, what will happen to the rest of us? We’ve always looked up to you, the runaway princess. I’ve listened to the stories of your mom and dad my whole life! And _your_ stories are barely starting to get out. Don’t walk into that trap.”

Star realizes she’s shaking from anger, helplessness, and hope. “Let me go, Mask. I’m going to go kick their grimy asses. Stay here.” She crouches, peeking around their hiding place, the toady-looking henchman is turning slowly on his heels, scrutinizing the dark, but he’s holding a flare. Star gulps at the odd dozen thugs standing around the frogman.

“Not alone!” hissed Mask, peeking around the rock, “You take those six on the left. I’ll take the six on the right.”

She turned, bright blue eyes wide and utterly guileless, a strand of corn silk yellow hair partially covering her face. “Okay. Ready?”

“On your call, captain,” said Mask, giving her a lopsided smile.

“At will,” said Star, eyes sparkling, and they leapt out of the shadows, together.

....

Both of Star’s knees were scraped to hell, Marco’s earned a lovely bruise on his face since the mask was no protection against hits, and the awful pressure of a black eye pushes against the mask. _Lovely_.

But Ludo’s henchmen have been run off, and Mask’s backpack is only a bit mangled.

“Such a dad,” muttered Star as Mask carefully cleans the scrapes, aided by the soft yellow light from Star’s very real, very dangerous wand. It still looks like a toy to Mask, but he can’t help but notice how it shimmers when he looks at it from the corner of his eyes.

“You _want_ to get gangrene and have to chop your legs off?” Mask made an exaggerated chopping motion and Star pretended to swoon back, kicking her legs out and making distressed howls. “Noo! My legs! They’re my second favorite limbs!”

Mask grinned and finished by pressing a clean self adhesive gauze to Star’s knees. “Done!”

“Now you!” says Star and Mask sighs, “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”  
Star stiffens, but Mask doesn’t notice, “Have you ever patched anyone up, ever? I have. Practically an expert in it. It’s an art!” He grins and Star’s posture softens, “ . . . everything okay, Star?”

“Mhm! Peaches!” said Star, and shifts so she’s out of Mask way as he strips off his hoodie, which has weathered their battle quite well. There are lines of bruises on Mask’s arms, but his knuckles are scraped quite badly. Star managed to coax Mask to let her help with the knuckles.

“So.” Marco says, leaning back to get a good look at Star.

“So?” echoes Star, laying her wand in her lap and taking in Marco’s bright red hoodie, his deep set brown eyes, his fluffy brown hair, his ears, his.... Star frowns and tries to focus on something she’s missing. Marco has short, stubby nails, slim shoulders, nut brown skin, fluffy brown hair, steady brown eyes, a nondescript chin, a full set of lips, and....and... A pounding headache sears through Star. She shakes her head.

“Don’t even try,” said Mask, “You’ll just hurt yourself.”

“Try what?” asks Star, squinting and massaging her head.

“To think, speak, or look at-“ Marco whimpered and holds his....his.. Another headache slams into Star and she close her eyes, dizzy.

“I see,” says Star, “even though I can’t look at...” she groans and stops. “Okay! Okay! We _get it!_ Mask has some sort of-!” This time Star actually has to lie down, he stomach cramping horribly. “’Everyone just shut up!”

Marco laughed, “This is why I need to go to the capitol, we’re just two kids and whatever this-“ Mask grimaced, “-is, I need an adult’s help.”

“I see. Metaphorically,” muttered Star, the headache slid away like a slimy and ornery eel. “Phew! What. A. Nightmare!”

“Mhm,” agreed Mask, “Hopefully the witches and wizards at the capitol will help me.”

Star twists her mouth around and says gently, “Mask.... I... mmm, I don’t think that’ll happen.”

“Why not?” Marco’s voice cracks, “Why wouldn’t they help me?”

Star looked away, “They’ll start asking weird questions. And you obviously can’t talk about it. Obviously Pony head wanted you to come find me! Maybe she thought I could help you with your...issue.”

Mask scoffed, “Pony head! Guh!” Star stared as Mask grabbed a rock and hurled it into the night. Star was unsure of what to make of Mask. He sighed and asked, “I don’t think you can help.”

“Well whoever, whatever did-“ Star choked on her words, “your problem- I hate not being able to talk about this!” Star stood up and slung her wand into the ground, it bounced at an unnatural angle and Star caught it.

Mask wanted to laugh, Star’s face was red, eyes constricted in pain. “Please stop talking about it Star, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Star sighed dramatically but conceded the point, “But I mean it, the King’s witches and wizards won’t help you. They’ll probably think you’re a wizard and try to force you to cooperate with them in the-“ Star gestured around them.

“The Triwar.” supplied Marco.

“Mm, is that what it’s being called? Who’s fighting anyway?” Star sat back down, tucking her legs under herself.

“Well obviously Mewni and the human realm, but recently it also includes the Demon Realm, the Cloud Kingdom, the In-between and. . .”

“I get it! I get it!” moaned Star, “Everyone’s fighting everyone else. Geez, I guess I’ve been out of the loop for longer than I should’ve, huh?”

“I thin,” said Marco carefully, pillowing his head on his hoodie, “that the dam broke when your parents blew up the human realm’s magic reservoir and then handed the castle over to-“

“Woah! Woah! Woooaaah!” Star whacked Marco with her wand gently with each word, “My parents did no such thing! My mother would _never_!”

“Then what-?”

The sound of metal on dirt swirled through the dusty, night air to them and the Fish on Wheels rumbled up to them, jumping and flipping in what could only be interpreted as excitement.

Fish bumped into Mask, determined to get him moving, and continued to bump into him, actually running over Marco’s leg.

“Ow!”

The Fish reversed and ran over Mask’s arm.

“OOOooww!! Enough! S-stop!” Mask leapt up, buffeting the Fish’s advances.

“Oooh!” Star laughed, “Someone’s got a cruuuuush~!” Her voice warbled with the jab and Marco stuttered.

But Star shrieked when Fish turned her attention to Star to run her over as well.

Marco laughed and pointed gleefully, managing to dodge Fish’s attempt to run him over again. Fish jumped, spinning her base and then zooming ahead. She spun and then edged onward.

“Oh! We’re suppose to follow her! Come on, Mask!” Star squealed happily, grabbing Mask and hauling him upright.

“My bag!”

“We’ll come back for it,” said Star, patting his arm in what is supposed to be a soothing gesture, but she whacked his bruised arm and Mask winced.

Mask allowed himself to be dragged in Star’s wake, following Miss Fish. “Where are we going Miss Fish?” gasped Star, she skidded to a halt, Mask nearly running into her. Mask grabs her arm to prevent them from falling, and Star’s skin feels cold and clammy, even though they’ve been fighting and running.

Marco frowns, not that Star can tell, and touches her forehead, “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Fine! Peaches and cream!” grits out Star, trembling, “Just feeling a bit tired after that amazing fight!”

Mask smiles, “If you say so.”

Mask looks up to Miss Fish where she’s twirling and hopping and spitting rocks under her wheels. Star feels her stomach cramp in hunger and she suddenly can’t find her balance, except Mask is holding her arm, and that grounds her, giving her something to focus on other than the dizziness swamping her.

“Star....”

“What is it?” she asks wearily.

“Star, it’s. . . Wow, I’ve never seen it from so close. . . It’s,” The awe in Mask’s voice is tinged with horror, “Ugly.”

Star looks up and not a hundred yards away, crouched like some giant lovecraftian dream is her castle, “My castle,” her voice is faint. The fog and mist from the Wasteland made the castle look like a sleeping beast, bulging turrets and crumbling bulkheads melting into the landscape.

“What do we do?” Mask hedges around the question, “It looks so different from what I saw yesterday.”

“Ludo likes casting illusion spells over the castle when in view of towns, it make it look like it’s still-“ Star grimaced, and suddenly she looks older than her 14, she looks ancient and withdrawn and very, very hungry, in more ways than one.

Mask placed a hand on Star’s shoulder, “I’m going to go with Fish to check it out. Stay here. Ok?”

“But-“ It’s too late, Mask and Miss Fish are quickly approaching her castle, and Star forces herself to look at her home. She shudders. Not her home, it’s a bastardization of her home, an awful joke, a cruel parody of what was once her ancestral home. And she’s just letting a rando and some magical statue inside.

“Crap,” says Star and trudges after them, feeling tired and winded.

...

Marco jiggled the side door that Miss Fish found and to his dismay, finds it unlocked.

“This is braking and entering,” he whispers to Miss Fish, but she just nudges him, rather forcefully, and Marco stumbles inside. The door slams shut before Miss Fish can get inside.

Marco squeaks and tries to jostle the door, pulling and tugging, finally resorting to banging on the wood, there’s a banging in response to his, but it sounds very far away. Weird.

Marco tries the doorknob one more time, all Marco wants to do is rub his cheeks until he’s soothed, but the mask doesn’t allow him access to him face. Although the paper mache is slightly bendable, Marco can’t reach under the material, so he settles for rubbing his eyes until they’re used to the darkness.

He crawls up the five steps and lies there, gazing at the disaster of a room. It looks like a combination of sitting room and dining room. There’s a sickly green fire going on in the hearth, Marco crawls forward, only vaguely registering the dirt clinging to his hoodie. He dodges the center of the room and crouches near the hearth, eyes darting back and forth, there’s creaking and groaning of the floor boards over his head though and that makes Marco very nervous.

“Oooh, that’s gotta be a doozy, hm???” A high pitched voice slithers into Marco’s ear, soft and persistent, but not alarming. “Bet you can’t even talk about it. Straight on, at least.”

Marco peers into the hearth and sees a tiny, three-eyed man floating in the hearth, wearing a very short belted tunic. “What?”

The tiny, lumpy man wrinkles his nose, “The-the thiiIIiiIIiing,” he trills, pointing to his own face, wincing.

“Ah, no. Can’t talk about it.”

“Hmmmm,” the little man scratches his bald, lumpy head, “I could help you, you know. With _it._ For a price.”

Marco touches his face, “You’re no wizard, you’re just a little fire creature.”

The little fire creature puffs himself up, filling the two meter hearth and sending plumes of dust and ash and carbon flying across the room. Marco coughs and shrinks down as feet stomp down the staircase on the far side of the room.

“Glossaryck! Simmer down-hah!- or I’ll get Ludo to pull out your toe nails again!” A slimy looking henchman limps down the stairs, the hairs on her head looking more like quills than anything. Marco squints through the haze and the fire-man-creature- _whatever­_ throws even more smoke and ash into the air. Marco grabs a broom that’s nearby, steadies himself on one knee, kneeling, crouching, waiting. . . waiting. . . waiting. . .

The henchman goes down easy-peasy. And the fire-creature-man- _whatever_ , Glossaryck, looms out of the ash, outlined in blue and green, eyes glowing, looking very terrifying and ancient and utterly ridiculous.

“Ugh!” Marco shies away from the giant Glossaryck, “Underwear! Undeeeerwear!”

“Hee-hee,” titters Glossaryck, “Here come some more. One down, twelve to go. You’re lucky it’s a skeleton crew tonight. Hmmmm?”

Marco looks up at the impossibly huge Glossaryck, bursting out of the hearth but somehow never leaving the worn mortar and brick space.

“Do you know Star Butterfly?”

The change is instantaneous. Glossaryck visibly deflates until he’s the size of a large cat. “Of course I know the girl. She was suppose to be the rightful heir of...” Glossaryck waves his hand at the ruins around them, “This trash pile.”

The clatter of footsteps above them is getting frantic, but hasn’t quite reached the staircase.

“What would she have to do to regain the um...claim? To this place.”

Glossaryck’s dreamy eyes sharpen, “Who _are_ you?”

“No one,” says Marco automatically, then amends it with, “Mask. You’re local...um...justice boy?” He winces as he says it and Glossaryck hums, his voice reverberating strangely.

“Well then,” Glossaryck sighs, “Good luck, justice boy.” And just the clatter of foot steps threatens to throw Marco right back out onto the cold of the wastes.

...

Star manages to trot the last few meters to the door and finds Miss Fish standing there perfectly still. Star clambers up to the door and yanks it open, almost getting whammied in the face with a large toad or frog. She ducks inside and sees Mask furiously defending himself against six assailants. Ice and fire mix in Star’s veins as she jumps into the fray. She flings herself at Mask’s back, supporting him as he does a spin to avoid an attack.

“Star!” he yelps, but hooks his arm into hers, swinging her into an enemy.

“Mask!” replies Star, gleeful, kicking the weird bear thing with shark arms.

Glossaryck does a slow clap as their final enemy goes down.

“Glossaryck!” squeals Star, and rushes into the flames to squeeze the weird fire creature, “Oh! I should- um!”

“Oh yes,” says Glossaryck, smoothing down his tunic, “You need to do it right away, before Ludo comes back.”

“Mask, can you throw these _interlopers_ out, pretty please?” Star squeezes her hands together in prayer, her wand clenched in between her fingers.

“Uhm, of course.” Mask grabs the nearest henchman and drags them to the door, “Do I just- uhm throw them out?...Star?.... Glossaryck?” He’s alone and the room is very dark. He sighs and with Miss Fish’s help, they drag all of the henchmen out. Dumping them right outside the door. Marco roots around the filthy room, finds some blankets and throws them out too.

He stands shivering in the room for a few minutes, unsure of what to do, so he decides to go looking for Star. (A few months later Marco will realize what he sees that night, but by then Star is long gone from Marco’s life.)

Marco stomps upstairs, hears nothing, continues onto the next level, but each floor is just as empty and more disgusting than the last. He walks back down the stairs, head tipped to one side, listening. He reaches the ground floor and finally notices the stairs continue below so he follows them.

Star and Glossaryck are standing, facing one another, Star looks pale, she is hunched in on herself, her cheeks and eyes are glowing. Marco has the prickling feeling of intruding. He quickly backs out of the room and goes back upstairs.


	4. Stone Soup

“Wake up!” yelled Star, clapping Mask on the shoulders.

“Eep!” Mask flinched and fell from the chair he’d dozed off in.

“Mask!” Star pulled him from the chair and swung him around, “I’m back! This is my castle again! My family’s castle! Thanks to you!” She pulled him into a bone crushing hug, Mask leaned away from her at first, but his wariness crumbled and he hugged Star back.

“Well, I got the ball rolling, but without you I would have never been able to finish,” said Mask, shifting his arms so he could hug Star properly. She felt thin and cold, her clothes were thin and filthy.

“That’s true,” sniffed Star into his shoulder, she sighed and pushed him to arms length, “I’m starving! Literrrally starving! Do you know how to cook?”

“Only if you help me,” said Mask.

“Before you do that, shouldn’t we clean this place up?” Glossaryck sounded snide. Star slumped, letting go of Mask.

“I guess so, we should also move the castle.“

“Nope.” Mask grabbed Star’s arm, “No work. Not for right now. Star, clear a space on the floor so we can eat. I’ll find some food around the kitchen, then come help me prepare it.”

“Aye aye, capitan!” Star saluted him and set to work with her wand. Soap suds and tiny fluffy monkeys got to work cleaning an area of the room. Mask rummaged in the kitchen, found some pulled beef, tomatoes, green onions, and garlic. Perfect. Star reappeared and between the two they chopped most of the food, Star threw in some minced apples and Mask raised his eyebrow.

“For texture!” said Star giggling, throwing leftover onion tails at Mask. They lugged a pot out, and Star scraped it clean before dumping the food into it. Glossaryck helped them start a fire in the hearth and the pot was carefully placed over the flames with minimal sloshing.

“Now what?” Star looked feverish and Mask wished he’d just made sandwiches or something, but Star immediately shut him down when he offered to make some. “I want to eat the soup! I put apples in it!”

“Then.... Let’s explore?” Mask waved to the stairs, he took a step downstairs, but Star tugged on his arm.

“Let’s go upstairs! It’ll be much more interesting!” She grinned widely, her eyes looking less than happy.

“But-“

Star however, ignored him and skipped up the stairs, and Mask decided to follow her. The bedrooms were destroyed, even some of the walls were ripped out, the bathrooms smelled like corpses, and the hallways were full of sticky goo, nothing had been left unmarred by Ludo’s henchmen. But over the ordinary coat of grime and vomit smells, there was something oppressive and sickly that churned Mask’s stomach.

“You can feel it too, huh?” asked Star, gripping her toy wand tightly before her, the shining yellow light guiding them.

“The soup’s ready,” growled a disembodied head, melting through the walls.

Mask and Star shrieked, bouncing off each other in the narrow hallway.

“GLOSSARYCK!” whined Star, “My heart! You almost killed me!” She slammed her palm against her chest and pretended to swoon against Mask.

Mask leaned over wheezing and also pretending to swoon, “I need to lie down.”

“Soup first!” boomed Glossaryck, impassive to their reproach. “Mister justice boy is right. Star you look awful. When was the last time you ate?”

“What month is it?”

Mask took that as answer enough and pushed Star down the hallway and down the stairs. Glossaryck had scrounged up two bowls that looked dusty, but clean, ish. Marco ladled soup into their bowls and they toasted one another.

“Spoons are for the bourgeois anyway,” said Star, loudly slurping form her bowl.

“You _are_ bourgeois, Star.” Mask frowned at her.

Star looked scandalized, “Language, Mask!”

Marco laughed into his soup and then continued to eat. Star ate slowly, as if she was remembering how to do it all over again.

“Star...can I ask you something I know you don’t want to talk about?” Mask refilled his bowl and Glossaryck’s bowl. He noted Star hadn’t even half emptied her own, but she looked more energetic and pinker than before. There was a flush to her face that Mask thought might be natural, but he couldn’t be sure. Wouldn’t know until he asked.

Star took a small sip and then nodded, suddenly looking wary and not meeting Mask’s eyes.

“When _was_ the last time you ate?”

Star sputtered, spraying soup all over her legs and the floor. Mask winced, but didn’t back down from the question.

 _Of all the things he could’ve asked._ Star wiped her face on her sleeve, “ _That’s_ your question?”

Mask spun his empty bowl in his hands slowly, feeling the rough edges with the pads of his fingers instead of opening his mouth to apologize, he remained silent.

“Well... I found some old bread thrown out...” Star’s throat closed up and she looked away, this time her face was pink in annoyance and embarrassment. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Mask twisted his mouth into a frown, “I’m not looking to embarrass you. I just wanted to know if you’re strong enough to magic this place back. You have to use magic right? What if you’re not strong enough?” Marco shocked himself with those words, who did he think he was? Questioning the High Princess of Mewni? Even if she was little more than a homeless runaway right now, low on magic, low on everything. Marco suddenly, fervently wished he could see Star in her full glory. He wished it more than he wanted the stupid paper mache monstrosity off his face.

“Maybe,” said Star, she slammed her bowl down, “But if I have to die trying, then I will!” Her voice almost gave out at the end, but she stood tall, glowering at the ruined castle around them.

“Glossaryck?” Star’s voice cracked.

“Yes?”

“Let’s move the castle, _at least._ Before Ludo comes back.”

“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” Now Glossaryck frowned at her, chewing on a nail and ripping it off. Mask looked away, feeling queasy. He wasn’t sure if he liked this Glossaryck creature.

“ _Now_.” Star stomped her foot, making the rotted wood crack.

“You know...” hummed Glossaryck, leering at Mask, “ _he_ could help you.”

“Glossaryck, no.”

Mask perked up, “How can I help?”

Star shook her head, “NO-“ She put her palm on Masks’ forehead and pushed him down, Mask swatted her aside, “Yes.”

“You don’t know what it means to offer your energy,” growled Star, “It’s... it’s!”

“Very personal,” agreed Glossaryck, “But Star needs help.”

Mask felt embarrassment scorch his throat, “I don’t want to be here when Linguini or whatever shows up with more monsters.”

“His name is Ludo!” sad Star, exasperated.

“That’s not the point! Is it?” Mask shouted. He fell silent and dropped the bowl, _I have to shut up, I have to be quiet and do whatever it takes to get this paper mache mask off my face so I can go home. If all it takes is giving Star some of my energy then I’ll do it. I have to._

“I don’t even know your real name, do I?” Sparks of acid green energy curling around Star’s wand.

Mask shrunk in on himself, scuttling back from the sickly magic, his skin felt itchy and cold. Star froze and tucked her wand away, she looked angry at herself.

“Glossaryck. Now.” It was an order, her voice rang with command, “I might be too weak to peel the portals for now, but I can help you move the castle.”

“Very well.” Glossaryck threw Mask a glare, as if it was his fault for all of this. Marco turned away, for some reason feeling equally angry at himself too. “But for the record, you should have taken the offer and peeled the portals _now_.”

Star sat down before the hearth, “Let’s get this can of worms up and running Glossaryck.”

Mask felt the castle lurch, but then he felt nothing. Both Star and Glossaryck had their eyes closed, quickly falling into a meditation. Mask looked out of a tiny grimy window, but could only make out vague colors and lights. He glanced one last time at Star before running upstairs, he crashed through doors, trying to guess where he’d seen it. Finally, he found the right door and stumbled out onto a balcony, it was trashed and creaking alarming underfoot, but the view. Oh it was worth it. The mountains of the wasteland rose before him, his breath crisped on his throat, under the mask. Snow began building on the bare mountain rocks the higher they went. It got so cold that Marco’s hands started to ache, his eyes smarted with snow glare, and he could reach out to touch several snow-laden boughs.

The only warning Marco had was the squeal of wheels and the crack of rotten wood. Marco leapt to the side, landing heavily on bent, rusted railing. Miss Fish landed with a spectacular crash of wood, trash, snow, and splinters. The whole balcony screeched and tipped sideways, Marco lunged for Miss Fish and grabbed onto the sill of the door.

“Marco!” the voice was muffled by the distance and hallways inside the castle, but Marco was sure it was Star yelling, his heart seized up, how had she guessed his name? Footsteps hauled on the stairs and Marco managed to get his right foot into the hallway, but he was sliding, Miss Fish’s wheels were spinning uselessly. “Mask!” Star looped her arms under his and managed to drag him inside. Marco kicked the door shut and they all collapsed onto the filthy floor.

“Did...” Mask heaved, “Did you say something else?”

“Huh?” Star struggled to sit up, looking deathly pale, trembling.

“When you were running up here. I thought I heard...” Mask turned away, “I don’t know, I thought I heard something else.” Marco remembered how guilty Star had looked when he’d been frightened by the blob monsters. Like he’d thrown a gift in her face. Not that Marco was particularly pleased a being chased by blob monsters, but what was the point of telling Star that it was her fault he was cursed and had no idea what to do about it. Marco’s heart sank, apparently the royal wizards and witches weren’t going to help him, and neither could Glossaryck. No one could. Maybe Marco would remain as Mask forever, but that didn’t mean he had to drag Star down with him. No, it was better she didn’t know, for now at least.

“No. I just called for you. That’s all. What did you think you heard?”

“My name.”

Star did a bad job of hiding her surprise, “Which is????”

“I lost it. I thought I heard it...”

“Oh...” Star chewed on her wand, “Since you helped me, maybe I could help you with-“ She threw up.

Miss Fish revved out of the hallway, clattering down the stairs. Marco sighed, “You really have to remember not to talk about it.” He helped Star up.

Glossaryck materialized as a mural, “She’s weakened by the moving. I’m going to get the castle safe with my own energy, get Star to eat something and then sleep.”

“I know what to do,” said Mask, “I’m not dumb.”

“And I’m not dead,” chirped Star, “I’m not cleaning this place up. As soon as I feel better, I’m overhauling this giant dump!”

Star forced herself to eat one giant bowl of soup, it was warm and had lots of little fat globs that made the savory taste almost too rich. But as she an Mask huddled down to sleep in front of the hearth, she noticed.

“Mask.” She reached out from her bundle of blankets and furs to touch the tip of Mask’s paper mache nose.

“Mm?”

“Your.... you look different. Your...It looks different.” Sleep dragging at her, Star managed to see Mask scramble around the pile of trash and find a reflective coffee pot to look at himself.

Star had noticed the mask was just a dingy grey before, like spoiled curds or something quaint like that. But now there were stripes running down the nose and temples of the mask. Mask touched his face and tried scraping the lines off.

“Weird.” said Mask, “It feels permanent. Like it’s been dyed. Did you do this?”

“Of course not, “said Star, yawning widely, she tucked her wand under her neck, “Sleep tight.”


	5. Of Curses and Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your love! (*^ -^*)

Marco awoke with a start, his hands already going to his face. Just for kicks he tried to tug the mask off but it just made his whole face burn. It felt like early morning, when under blankets you felt warm and fuzzy, and sticking your hands or feet out brought the pleasant tingle of cold. Marco sneezed and stretched, Star continued to sleep curled around her wand, Glossaryck perched on her head snoozing like a cat.

“Awake Master Mask?” Glossaryck opened one of his eyes and spun it so only the whites showed, “Best get breakfast started. How about doughnuts?”

Mask sat up, “Doughnuts isn’t breakfast.”

Star stuck a hand out and hit Mask. “Sh! Sh! Sshhhh!”

Mask yawned again and stood up his back crackling softly. Star didn’t look like she was going to be dragging herself upright anytime soon so Mask went to the front (back?) door. Once he was outside, Mask enjoyed taking a huge whiff of the wet air. The castle was crouched on all fours amidst some of the biggest trees Marco had ever seen. He gasped and pushed the heavy wooden door open all the way open. It creaked and released an alarming amount of dust and dirt. But the forest air was wet and Marco had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. The trees spanned more than four or five of his arm lengths and were taller than the skyscrapers of the capitol city.

The bark was rough and solid under Mask’s hands; the forest floor was slick with morning dew and wet leaves. He laid his forehead against the tree and smiled, feeling some sort of peace wash over him. He felt small and swaddled by the forest around him. Marco sighed, letting the tension drain from him. The rough wood of the tree dragged satisfying scratches on his skin, not enough to injure.

“Mask! What are you doing?! Get inside, I’m going to start turning the castle over.”

Mask flinched and felt the stiff surface of the paper mask rub against his forehead again. “Uhm, yeah... okay... I mean what?! No absolutely not! Breakfast first!” Mask whirled and jabbed a finger at Star who hung on the door frame, still looking exhausted. Star made a noise of impatience and exasperation.

Mask made scrambled eggs with glitter (the glitter was added courtesy of Star wanting to help) and found a partially molded loaf of bread. They would have eaten the bread slathered in butter except Star blasted the bread to bits while trying to get the mold off.

“Phpt,” Mask spat out a wet chunk of bread and scraped some off his face. Star giggled and spit out some bread, shaking off the rest.

“All right!” she said, clapping her hands loudly, “Enough waiting! Mask, get outta here!”

Glossaryck tutted, “Mask doesn’t have to leave. Come and sit with me here. Miss Fish? Join us unless you wish to be transmagorkified into pudding.”

Miss Fish crashed down the stairs, her stone wheels making the wood creak underneath her. She launched herself onto the table where Mask and Glossaryck were sitting. Marco brought his knees up to his chest, overwhelmingly curious.

“You should tell her,” hissed Glossaryck. A deep, icy shiver ran down Marco’s back, and invisible burning fingers traced his scalp. Marco shuddered, “I can’t. It wasn’t her fault.”

Glossaryck turned nauseating eyes on him, “As queen before her second decade, she will need a strong foundation to rely on. It will be a small foundation. You two will be separated or brought together by truth. Even I cannot yet guess which it will be.”

“You can see the future??” Mask leaned in closer, looking at anything but Glossaryck’s eyes.

“I can see strong possibilities.” Glossaryck’s words seemed to hiss and sputter, like a campfire, “But nothing is confirmed until it is confirmed. Ya dig?”

Mask frowned and turned back to peek at Star who had been muttering to herself for the past minute. Miss Fish thumped up and down, Mask absently patted the base of her rolling board.

“Keep your hands and tongues inside the ride at all times!” Star’s voice cracked like rocks under pressure. Mask’s teeth ached and everything became too bright to handle, he clenched his eyes shut, but the spark and sizzle of magic continued to echo and rattle inside his head.

And then it was over.

Mask kept his eyes closed until Star grabbed his hands and swung him around. “It looks so good, Mask!” Star squealed and twirled. He finally opened his eyes and gasped, Star watched him, grinning like a fool.

The rotten wood and permanent smell of crap and vomit was gone. The small dirty windows crusted over with dust and smeared bugs were no more.

The inside of the castle now had high ceilings, brightly painted murals and stone floors overlaid with thick runners. Marco could see a familiar-looking kitchen through the arched walkway, the stairs were peach flagstone with and iron and wood handrail. It was all so familiar that Marco ached.

“How,” he gasped, “How did you know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” sniffed Star. There was something in the way she grabbed his hand and hauled him upstairs that made Marco seriously doubt that. The second floor was just as familiar as the kitchen and staircase, the peach walls were warm and Marco laughed when Star shoved him into a door, prodding him forward. His room.

Marco grinned helplessly, his heart felt like he’d eaten too much spicy candy, leaving him raw and tender to everything else he came in contact with. “Thank you. It’s amazing.”

Star blushed, “Don’t get used to it!” She wagged her wand at him, “You want to stay? You gotta work!”

“Si, mi Capitan!” Marco saluted her, laughing, and they ran back downstairs, “What’s your first order?”

“Pancakes and clam chowder!” said Star once they were on the main floor. Miss Fish twirled and thumped on the floor, “Miss Fish requests chocolate ice cream too!”

“Only if everyone pitches in, that’s a lot of food.” Marco starts rummaging in the kitchen. Miss Fish is at his elbow, thumping cabinets open.

....

That night, despite the fluffy bed and the wide-open windows of his room, Marco feels trapped, like the walls are trying to crush him. He knocks on Star’s door but she doesn’t answer, so he drags himself on socked feet downstairs. He finds Miss Fish standing in front of the large firepit, staring into the flames, her fins held out for balance, her human knees bent for stability.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Mask finds a bottle of milk and holds it out, “Café con leche?” Mask takes the loud creak as a ‘yes’ and boils enough milk for two. He sets Miss Fish’s mug in front of her and gingerly sits in the chair next to her. “I added two spoons of sugar and a lot of coffee. I hope that’s okay.”

Miss Fish creaks and Mask guesses she’s happy. “I know it’s dumb... but I feel homesick. I’m only fourteen, and I have a –“ Mask chokes on the word ‘curse’, the mask prickling like fire ants on his cheeks, “a problem and I can’t go back. I _can’t_ and there’s no clear-cut solution. If there was I could follow it!” Mask waves his mug, spilling some of his drink. “I’m so good at following directions, it would be a snap!” He clicks his fingers, “Sorry Miss Fish, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s so stupid and _I’m_ stupid and it’s not like you can help anyway! Not-!” adds Mask hastily, “That you don’t want to help, but-“

Miss Fish interrupts him with a sympathetic creak and then spins slowly in place, her fish face glinting in camaraderie.

Mask listens carefully, “Thank you. For listening too. So where are you from?” He settles into his chair, listening to Miss Fish’s creaking and scrapings, hoping that if he pays enough attention he’ll begin to understand.

...

“Gah!”

The mug falls to the ground, clattering, but not breaking. Muttering, Marco gets up, scratching his face and almost tripping over Miss Fish’s half-empty mug. The feel of paper mache is suddenly heavy on his face, Mask sighs and picks up the mugs, dumping them into the sink. Someone else can deal with those dishes.

“Ooh! Mask! I am so glad you’re awake!” Star leaps down the last four steps and wraps him in a hug, “I. Am. So. Exciii~~~ted!”

It’s easy to fold Star in a hug, Mask grins, “What is it!”

“We’re going to go look for- Oh! Your,” Star whines in pain, her face crumpling, “Ouchies! It’s different, again! Look!” She conjures up a mirror. Mask peers at himself, there are green details under his eyes that weren’t there yesterday. “Much more fancy, “says Star in approval, “The black stripes were a bit too serious, but the green adds a nice touch!!”

Mask huffs, “Yes but I hope this doesn’t keep happening or else I’ll look terrible in a week.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic!”

Mask hiccoughs and Star bites her lip, and burst out laughing.

“Sh! SHS hSHHHshs!” says Star, “Listen to ~me~. Today we’re going on a trip to visit a friend of mine, they might be able to help, and maybe you too!!”

“Really?” Mask doesn’t want to think of what could happen if no one helps him, “Let’s go then!”

Star’s smile is effervescent and she goes to the front door, “Lookie here Mask. See the color pinwheel? The different colors mean different places. Ignore the black wedge, it just leads to the void, the in between place and is _useless_. The pink wedge is the capitol city-“

“Oh!”

“Yes. Yes. But remember what I said?” Star pats his shoulder.

“Oh...” Mask deflates and Star wraps him in a comforting hug.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you help. The green one leads tooooooo...... The Mall!!!!!”

Mask groans, “A mall?? How is that even useful?”

“As expected from a silly human,” says Star, looking down at him like the royal princess she is, “Not ‘A’ mall. ‘The’ Mall. The end-all-be-all mall! the Mall to end all other malls! One Mall to unite them and in the darkness-“

Mask gently tugged on her bangs, “You’re going off on a tangent.”

“Right! Sorry, sometimes that happens when you talk about The Mall. It’s like a built-in advertising spell.”

“Neat!”

“Yeah! Anyway that’s the green wedge. The last one, the blue one just opens the door to wherever the castle is physically. See?”

She flicked the door knob to blue and opened the door: Giant Redwoods and mist.

Pink wedge: A scene of the bustling capitol. Bright waving flags, squadrons marching past, military airplanes performing maneuvers above his head. Mask pulled his head back in and slammed the door shut.

Star held her arm out like a barrier in front of Mask, she turned the knob to black and opened it: Nothing. Mask felt himself want to walk forward, felt his spine curving, spooling towards the nothingness. He whimpered. Star slammed the door shut. “That’s why we keep away from the black wedge, until I figure out what it is.”

Mask rubbed his back, trailing his fingers down his spine to make sure it was still straight and not soft like putty. “I can help you do research.”

“Great!” trilled Star, “Because I hate research. And now!” With a flourish, she spun the door knob to the green wedge and flung the door open, “The Mall! Let’s go!” She shoved him through the door.


	6. Here kitty, kitty

Mask felt a tiny jolt in his spine as he and Star passed through the doorway and stepped into the blaring lights and sounds of an arcade.

“Wh-Where? What?!” Mask turned in a tight circle as Star slammed the door shut.

“Here, help me move this,” grunted Star as she pushed an arcade machine in front of the door. Between the both of them the door was hidden from sight.

“And!” chirped Star, swinging her arms out to the zoo that was the arcade, “This is Archies’!” She hopped on her toes, “It’s very boring!!” Mask scoffed.

He approached one of the video games and touched the joystick. He hadn’t played a game since before the war started, no one he knew had. He swung around, eyes darting from one end of the arcade to the other, what was now obvious had been hidden behind the piercing shrieks and whistles and roaming multi-colored spotlights from the various games.

He and Star were alone.

There were no other people in the arcade with them.

“Star,” hissed Mask, “Where is everyone?”

“What?” Star gawked at him and then shrugged, dismissive. “Why would anyone come here? It’s suuuu~uper boring! Now come on, we have to-“

“PLAYERS!” screeched a clown, emerging from the shadows, “PLAYERS ONE AND TWO!!”

Star shrieked and back pedaled into a game, “Stay back you, monster!” Mask ran forward and grabbed Star’s arm, desperately looking for an exit.

“Lucky for you two there’s a discount!” shrieked the clown, gloved hands reaching and twitching for Star, “Two for one! Only one of you gets tossed into the Ball Pit (TM). The other-“

Mask yanked Star away from the console as the clown tried to grab Star, they turned tail and ran into the maze of games.

“Which way?” asked Mask.

“I don’t know! I’ve never been here,” Star hopped onto a game and looked around, “Oh! There! There!” She jumped and grabbed his hand, they could still hear the clown shrieking and bemoaning the ‘two for one price!’ and wailing ‘players one and two, come back!’

“Wow!” said Star, looking up at the _immense_ jungle gym she had led them to, “Isn’t it amazing?!” She spun in a circle, her striped teal and pink dress flouncing out.

“You were suppose to lead us to the exit!” screamed Marco, he looked back.

“F-Free appetizers!” sobbed the clown, rounding the corner, “Free appetizers from you!!! Bon appetit!” His hands were dripping with gold coins that fell onto the carpeted floor with dull thuds. The strobing lights turned its make up into a kaleidoscope of melted colors.

Marco pushed Star into the jungle gym and clambered in after her. The plastic felt damp and cool and the further they crawled into the tubing the stronger the scent of stale french fries and rotten mustard grew. They tumbled into a caged alcove, the smooth ropes and fresh air giving some relief from the stifling plastic. And Mask stuck his face in between the ropes, breathing deeply.

“I hate mustard,” muttered Mask. Star wiped sweat from her forehead and lay there limply, looking up at the ceiling painted like a knock-off, tacky van Gogh. LED stars of various colors completed the sickening look as they twinkled and spun, burning the retinas.

Star gasped and pointed upwards, “There look!” She grabbed Mask’s face and turned his eyes upwards, towards a corner of the ceiling. A single, lonely, yellow tube made its way from the cluster of wires into the wall, above it was a crooked flickering sign that said:

[  IT]

“It?” asked Mask, “It is _already_ chasing us!”

Star snorted, a loud and undignified sound that made Mask smile, “Not IT! _EX-_ IT! The sign’s just burnt out.”

Mask squinted and thought he could see the outline of two burnt out letters, maybe. “I don’t know...”

“Don’t you trust me?” Star clasped her hands together and whimpered. Mask touched his face and Star froze, her mouth flattening into a grimace.

“Mask... Can I ask why-“

“Meatball Mondays!” wailed the clown, too close, _much_ too close.

“Let’s go go go!” squealed Star, but it was too late, the clown had wedged itself into the entrance of the caged alcove, cutting off their escape. They scuttled back, hearts pounding.

Star whipped out her wand, and before Mask could stop her she screeched, “Warnicorn stampede!”

Nothing happened.

The clown froze and tried to scuttle backwards. “I see! I see!” he whimpered.

“Warnicorn stam _pede!”_ bellowed Star and then Marco felt an immense pressure push against everything, he closed his eyes and felt himself pushed back into the nylon ropes. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. The ropes tore, shooting them both onto the nylon bars of the cage rip. Star grabbed his hand as they were propelled backwards on a wave of rampaging unicorns.

Mask landed on the top of a slide, he dug his feet into the joints and rivets holding the sections together. “Staaaar!” he bawled.

“Here! Here, Mask!”

Star hung from a parallel tunnel above him. She held her arm out, using the joints to keep herself from slipping. Mask jumped and grabbed her hand, scrambling up. “Let’s go. I bet that clown knows how to get up here too.”

Summoned, the clown stuck its face out of the ruined alcove, “You’re breaking the ruuuuules...”

Star and Mask leapt from the parallel tunnel to the next higher tube, using the joint seams as hand and foot-holds.

“M-maybe I can blast us-“ said Star, arms shaking as she lifts her wand.

Mask grabs her wrist, “No. We’re almost there. Come on.”

They struggle the last few meters, even Mask feels the burn in his arms from climbing the slippery plastic tubes.

“Ookay,” gasps Star, her voice gone rough, “No more climbing. I’m putting my foot down.”

Mask tentatively touches the wall below the [..IT] sign and finds the wall not solid, but bending under even a little pressure. He pushes his shoulder against it and the wood splinters easily.

Star peers over his head into the dark, down-sloped tunnel, “Funny. You’d think it was a slide.”

“Maybe that was the joke,” muttered Mask, he brushed the wood splinters  away and sat at the edge, he pushed off.

...

They land in a normal-looking mattress store. Star hastily tucks her wand away, “I’m a bit disappointed...”

Mask snorts and bounces off the bed. “Let’s go before the clown decides to come looking.”

“ _Okay,_ ” declares Star, puffing her chest out, “Now! I welcome you to The Mall.”

Marco is properly impressed, four stories high, halls large enough to accommodate both heavy foot traffic and a central vendor aisle comfortably. Everything is painted in shades of gold and green, cheerful music is piped in through speakers. There are orange-vested ambassadors helping shoppers, balloon-vendors and furry mascots entertain children.

“It’s like an amusement park,” said Marco, feeling breathless.

Star nodded happily, “Yes! I’m a little hungry, but I think it’s more important we go talk with my... friend first. Okay?”

Marco wouldn’t have argued with her even if he wasn’t hungry and tired, “Por supuesto. Is it far?”

They secure a map from a too cheerful ambassador and find a bench to look at it. Star brings out a bright green pen and marks a little heart on top of a specialty pet store.”

“A pet store?” Mask wrinkles his nose at Star, but she can’t see it and tosses her pen back into her pocket.

“Yup,” said Star, she pointed to the mattress store in front of them and then to the map, “We’re here. Now let’s go!”

Star grabs his hand and leads him through the throng, chattering happily and pointing out stores she knows or an new stores that had replaced old haunts. It’s a little dizzying, all of the movement and the noise. Marco grips Star’s hand tightly and lets himself space out; it’s too much all at once. Too much change, Marco thinks of his family, his parents and grandmother. Nana Sofie would know what to do, she would be able to comfort him.

Marco’s throat ached and he gasped in sharp breath that dried out his throat.

“You okay, Mask?” He blinked and found that Star had tugged them to the side of the throng. She pressed a hand to his face, to the rough surface of the mask.

“I- I’m fine. It’s just-“ Mask motioned to his face and then shook his head.

Star looked away quickly, cutting her eyes to the continuously moving throng. She looked guilty. “Mask... This person should be able to help you. They’ll know what to do. So just- just hold on a little longer, okay? Please.” Star’s pleading with him, gripping his wrist tightly, almost pinching the thin skin.

He jerks away and rubs the feeling back into his hand. “Y-yeah, okay. Lets just go,” he mumbles.

The specialty pet store is called,

_The Process_

and it looks nothing like a pet store. In fact, it looks like a commercial tutoring place. There are maps of Mewni, the Underworld, and other places Marco is unfamiliar with despite his extensive studies. The three uncomfortable-looking chairs in front of a linoleum-topped counter. But it’s empty.

This doesn’t deter Star; she approaches the counter and authoritively rings the bell on the counter.

“I hope for your sake you’ve brought me an offering.” A squeaky, disembodied voice wafts up to them.

Star squeaked and leaned into Mask’s space, “Do you have _anything_ in your pockets, food-wise?”

“No,” whispered Mask, “Sorry.”

“Drat. Okay,” Star huffs and rubs her arm. Mask realizes that she’s nervous, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. Star lifts her wand, hand shaking, she doesn’t yell a spell, just takes a deep breath in and then exhales. She twirls the wand slowly, sparks coalesce and converge into a spiraling vortex Mask backs away, stunned by the subtlety of the magic. Star was pure exuberance and explosions, lasers and excess in spades. She scared Marco with all of her reckless magic, but _this_ \- this controlled weaving of magic made Marco want to run out and never look back.

He gritted his teeth as the magic continued, there were rivulets of sweat running down Star’s face, the back of her dress was damp too. Finally, Star flicked her wand away, tucking it away and holding her hands under the spiral of magic she’d created. A single red apple fell into her hands.

That was it? One lousy apple? Marco wanted to scold himself for being so ridiculous, he almost bolted on account of a fruit.

Star glances back at him, _sorry_ , she mouths quietly. Out loud she says, “I have an apple for you.” She places it on the counter and Mask is astonished to see a tiny cat’s paw snatch the apple up, and even more astonished to see a tiny kitten, with lavender fur and fluffy white wings, sparkling with jewels embedded in its fur, rise from behind the counter, munching slowly on the apple.

“You’re Star Butterfly,” squeaks the kitten.

Star curtsies and elbows Mask until he bows too.

“Yes. I am.”

“Deposed of your throne and powers. Your family in chains, reputation in tatters,” hisses the kitten, small needle-like teeth bared in derision, “How dare you come to me. Come _here_?”

“I have my throne back,” argued Star, almost not snarling “And my guide. _And_ my book. I- I also have a knight! He’s the beginning of my rebellion!” She pulled out her wand for inspection. The kitten disdainfully nudged it with a back paw, tail flicking back and forth aggressively.

“Your powers are broken,” snaps the kitten, tail lashing frantically, “Chased and humiliated. How dare you come to me?” It drops the apple and pounces onto Star’s chest; Star yelps when she feels tiny needle claws wink into her skin, the kitten leaps back and tastes the glimmer of red in otherwise perfectly translucent claws. The kitten hums, eyes narrowed and pupils slitted too thin to be kind.

“You. Knight. Sit.”

Marco obediently crouches on one of the plastic chairs. Star gives him a reassuring smile as she follows the kitten into the back room, door clicking closed behind them.

.

Marco feels frantic and hungry; he starts pacing in the small front office and eventually Star staggers back out. She fumbles for the counter to hold her weight, sagging against it.

“Star! Are you okay?” Mask quickly walks over to her, she seems fine, nothing lopped off or bleeding.

The tiny winged gremlin hovers by Star’s shoulder, staring at Mask with disapproval. “Miss Butterfly says you also are in need of a few lessons.” The chew toy pitch of the kitten’s voice did not make the words any less foreboding, Mask nodded dumbly and followed the kitten to the back room, taking the chair indicated.

“So,” says the kitten, “that curse is a nasty piece of work. Can you talk about it?”

Mask shook his head, and the kitten sighed, long suffering and exasperated. “Very well, very well. Let me do some preliminary tests and then I’ll see what we can do about breaking it.”

“Yes! _Thank you_ , then I can go home without endangering my family!” Marco felt himself missing his loud, messy, nosy family fiercely. It was suddenly a jagged hole in his chest, the kitten watched him with wide eyes.

The kitten flitted over, wings flapping so quickly they buzzed. It tugged on the hard surface of his mask, poked the skin on the edge, tapped his head, and then just stood there, on his forehead, humming and swaying.

Marco didn’t move an inch, barely dared to breathe, even as memories of his being cursed welled up, like blood from a fresh wound. He shuddered and rocked forwards in the chair as that night swept through him, icy and piercing like daggers. He gasped as the floating phantom of his memories swept through him, dragging imagined claws through him.

“That’s quite enough,” squeaked the kitten primly, digging her claws into his scalp, Marco winced but remained quiet, too rattled by his own memories. He discretely touched his face, wondering if the mask over his skin would be doubled or mutated.

“Well?” asked Marco, his voice shaking too much.

“Clever. Very clever,” said the kitten after a moment. Mask grimaced.

The kitten tapped a tiny, delicate paw to its lips. “What do you think of Star Butterfly and her... quest,” the kitten sneered the last word.

Marco had not expected that question, “Oh! Well... Ummm.”

“Since it’s her fault you are here at all,” said the kitten, staring at him with a measuring glance.

Marco felt the mask prickle slightly, as if trying to decide whether the kitten was breaking the rules or not.

“How old are you, human?”

“Thirteen.”

The kitten sighed and rubbed the gem on its forehead, it blinked and flashed prettily. “I’m going to be honest. The curse is breakable, but it will be difficult.”

Marco vehemently shook his head, “It doesn’t matter! I just want to go home.”

“You will go home Marco Diaz,” intoned the kitten in its squeak-toy voice, “But you will not remain there.”

Marco gaped at the kitten, “How?! How?!!!”

“Only a meeting with fate and destiny will break the curse,” continued the kitten, ignoring his interruption.

“I have cousins named Destiny and Fe,” said Marco, “Will that work?”

The kitten sighed and waved a paw at the door, “Open yourself up to the future Mask, and you will be free.”

Mask gulped and nodded, leaving the inner office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh, it's been forever! I got caught up in a different fandom and writer's block. But now I'm baack!! Thank you for reading!!!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I really appreciate your comments and kudos. :)))


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